“As for money . . . I’ve always provided for Gabi. I started the island with the net worth of my father. In reality, the island and all its proceeds, are a third hers. Though it’s not something we discuss. She knows she never has to worry about money.”
“Does Alonzo know this?” Michael asked.
“I never discussed it with him . . . I can’t speak for Gabi.” Which gave another dark mark against the man if Gabi had told Alonzo of their arrangement.
“So money could be a motivator.”
The three of them managed to put some food into their systems, and blew through a bottle of wine before giving up on the illusion of eating.
Less than a half hour later, Margaret rested her head in the crook of Val’s arm. The only light in the room glistened from the lights of Rome.
“Remind me to come back here,” she said as he played with her bare arm. “The city looks beautiful.”
“You’ve never been?”
Margaret offered a chuckle. “I grew up in rain-soaked Washington State. The only travel I’ve managed has been because of my job . . . well, that and Judy. I’ve been to her hometown, which makes mine look like New York.”
“That small?”
“I’ve read about small towns . . . but nothing holds a candle to Hilton, Utah. I understand why three of the five Gardner kids moved away.”
“Gardner?”
“That’s Michael’s given last name. Wolfe is for the movies.”
Val seemed to remember something about a second name for the actor, but hadn’t committed it to memory.
“Rome is beautiful. So rich with history. Architecture . . . Judy would give her left tit to wander the streets.”
Val laughed. “Her left tit, really?”
“She’s a total geek when it comes to architecture. I can’t tell you how many museums she dragged me to in college.” Margaret went on to tell about her college experience with Michael’s sister. “I made her hit a bunch of dive bars with amazing bands and what does she do? She hustles pool and makes the most of it. Brat.” There wasn’t an ounce of bite in Margaret’s words.
“Sounds like the best of friends.”
“We are. I’m lucky. And she wore off on me. I have a crazy desire to visit the Vatican and see Michelangelo’s work. And I don’t even like that stuff.”
Val kissed the top of her head. “Then we’ll return. See the city and everything your I don’t like this stuff heart desires.”
Margaret sighed, as if she wanted to say something and held back, then said, “Well, I’m lucky to have Judy. That became acutely evident when Gabi told me she didn’t have a close friend. If I knew your sister before she met Alonzo, I would have told her she could do better from day one.”
Val closed his eyes against her words. “I should have—”
“No. Val, it’s a girl thing. Men don’t see things the way women do. You approved a portfolio . . . women approve the person, then ask about if the man is a decent financial match.” Margaret groaned. “God that sounded superficial.”
“No need to apologize. A man should meet the financial needs of his wife, his family.”
She shook her head. “You’re such an old-fashioned man. I don’t think it matters. What matters is two people working together to make their life work for the right reasons. It wouldn’t bode well for Gabi to hook up with a man who sits on the couch and talks about getting a job one day.”
“Or a man who might be making money illegally.”
His words rested between them.
“We’ll find them,” Margaret said. “We’ll find them and question Alonzo until he’s within an inch of his life. We have more doubt than Gabi has ever had. Chances are, the questions alone will make her pause and ask if this is truly the man for her.”
He hoped so . . . after the questions in his head, Val didn’t want Alonzo anywhere near his sister. How could he have been so blind? Gabi was with the man now . . . somewhere . . . alone.
“Hey, stop it!”
Margaret sat up and stared at him.
“What?”
“You’re beating yourself up. Stop it.”
“You’re pushy.”
“Says the man who showed up in my bed without an invite last night.”
Had it only been one night? Seemed longer with the events of the day.
“Best idea ever.”
Margaret seemed to debate his words before leaning over him, hovering an inch above his lips. “It didn’t suck.”
She kissed him. Pushed her luscious lips against his with purpose and drove all thoughts of dirty vineyards, espionage, and his sister far from his brain.
I’m shallow . . . so shallow. He was instantly hard, his body buzzed with want. He should have been tired, dozing away to la-la land instead of taking the Margaret carpet ride. And since when did he refer to making love as a magic carpet ride? The woman kissing him was seeping into his life by slow degrees, and he liked it.
The woman seduced him. Where he should have been to church, praying to whoever was listening to watch over his sister, he was seduced within a breath of life. All because Margaret wiggled her way into his life and took it over.
She ran her fingertips over his chest, played briefly with his nipples, before moving south. All the while she inspected every molar with her tongue, lapped him up whole. There was nothing timid about her touch, her kiss.
Yet every second he listened for her breath. Was she moving too fast, was her heart beating too fast? Would he have to stop her seduction?